Footprints left in the Snow
by LotusRoseBlossom
Summary: [Fool me once, shame on you Fool me twice, shame on me] Those words seemed to inhabit the minds of Alfred and Kiku as they try to live normally after the war that left them both heartbroken and scarred, searching for the answers to questions they don't know how to ask for
1. Chapter 1

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{PlayList: Selected: Back to December- Taylor Swift 4:50}

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**_I'm so glad you made time to see me. . . How's life? Tell me, how's your family? I haven't seen them in a while. . ._**

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_Peggy Sue's 50's Diner _

– **Calico Mountains **

_December 13, 1954 _

Conversations floated around the relatively small diner, as people went about their day as usually. At the counter, a tired mother with her hair up in a lazy bun bought her son, a rowdy 7-year old a sundae. An old couple talked over a cup of coffee. A crowd of teenagers hassle a female waitress, irritating her by making her bring food and drinks back and forth. The man at the cashier struggled with a cast on his arm, and the cooks behind the window sleepily cooked up food that a newlywed couple had ordered up in-between loving smiles and fond touches. The overhead fans spun lazily even though it was snowing calmly outside. Red booths lined a wall, facing out into the cold morning. The floor was decorated in black and white checker patterns and an old juke box played a Vera Lynn tune.

The irate waitress, in her pink collared shirt and black mini apron tied over a poufy pink skirt huffed past the corner booth, flipping her blond ponytail out of the way as she made her way to order another round of 'Doris Day Omelets' and 'Hot Rod Hot Cakes'. She paused and glanced back at the sad-looking fellow sitting in the corner, a cup of steaming tea clenched in-between small hands. He had on a royal blue pea coat with a mint green scarf wrapped casually around his neck. He was looking down, so she couldn't see his closed eyes and his trembling knees. She shrugged and kept walking to the kitchen as she heard those damn brats catcalls follow her. She couldn't wait until she left this damn town.

And just like that, the world around them went on ignoring the 'sad-looking fellow'. To his neighbors and the rest of the world he was just another Japanese, seeking redemption from their homeland. But to his 'co-workers' and superiors he was Japan, a nation still feeling the effects of a horrible war, one that the world had never witnessed before. No, no one in the diner suspected that this 'sad looking fellow' was, in fact, a nation disguised as a common civilian waiting for another one of his kind to walk in at any moment.

Kiku Honda, otherwise known as Japan, opened his wide, frightened brown eyes to look around the room once more. He shifted nervously in his corner booth, the plastic creaking underneath him. He'd strategically picked this spot so he could see the moment _He _walked in. He looked out the diner window, releasing his hold he had on the green cup and sipped at his tea to calm his nerves. He looked through the busy crowd, searching for that unmistakable blond head of hair. The snow fell serenely, in contrast with his fluttering stomach. _Will he come? _he thought, scared he'd decided not to show. He sighed, but it was only to be expected, since last December . . . he cringed at the memory, fiddling with the buttons on his peacoat. His breathing accelerated, as it always did, when he tried to remember those horrible months leading up to-

He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes again, bowing his head.

_Enough! It was meant to be, when one goes against the laws and regu-_

"Kiku?"

Kiku's eyes snapped open to stare at the water ringed table and his heart speed up at the sound of _that_ voice. He slowly raised his head and looked into those blue, blue eyes. His breath caught in his throat.

"Alfred-san. . ." his voice came out breathy. He took in the personification of the United States of America, or Alfred F. Jones to everyone who knew him well enough to know. He wore dark jeans and blue converse. He'd ditched his ever-present bomber jacket, which Kiku was thankful for because the memories it carried with it were too much for him right now, when it was still so fresh in his mind. Instead he wore a white t-shirt that said 'I heart NY' in big scrawling letters, the heart a bright red. Over that he had on a white sleeved, brown letterman jacket with a capital 'A' on the front. His hands were stuffed into the pockets and his glasses glinted, reflecting the neon pink lights advertising their world-famous 'Hula Hoop Onion Rings'.

An awkward moment followed while they just stared at each other in silence. Finally Alfred cleared his throat and nodded to the booth. "Can I . . .?"

"Oh!" Kiku blinked and blushed a little. He prided himself on his manners and here he was, not offering him a seat.

_Even if they were former enemies _. . .

"Yes, please, sit," he said, hastily, gesturing to the seat across from him.

"Thanks." He took the seat, placing his hands on the table, looking around, presumably for the waitress. Another customer walked in, letting in a blast of cold air that jolted Kiku awake. What was he thinking, asking him to meet him up after so long?

Kiku looked away, mustering up his courage. "So, how is Arthur-san and Matthew-kun? Are they well?"

Alfred shrugged, still trying to call down the waitress, busy with the teens. "They're doing alright, I guess. Excuse me?" he turned away to wave down a passing waitress.

"That is good," Kiku didn't know what else to say. He barely paid attention as an energetic girl came to their booth, smiling brightly at Alfred. He didn't know why he'd asked him to come in the first place. It was on impulse. He had just found himself calling his number. And now, here they were face-to-face at last and all he felt was . . .lost.

"Yes? What ya' want, Big Daddy?" the cute red-head giggled, looking Alfred over. She flipped open a notepad to take an order.

"Hey, Dolly, what's good?" Alfred winked, making her giggle more. She rolled her green eyes.

"Don't have a cow, now, Daddy-O. I'm committed." She brandished a ring on her left ring finger.

"Ain't that a bite?" Alfred mocked he was wounded, clutching his heart.

She snapped her gum. "That's right, flutter bum."

"Oh, well in that case I'll take the next best thing. I'll have whatever he's-" He glanced over at Kiku, who'd been left dumbfounded at their boggling speech. Kiku looked down at his cup of tea. Alfred wrinkled his nose. Kiku almost smiled, he was certain Alfred had been about to say 'whatever he's having' but changed his mind when he'd seen it was tea he was drinking. He shook his head. He'd never acquired a taste for it, had he? He remembered when he'd introduced Japanese tea to him-

He stopped smiling abruptly, looking at his cup before putting it aside.

"Coffee, then." Alfred turned to the waitress again and smiled.

"You got it, bundie," she snapped her gum once more before walking away, humming to the jukebox. Alfred smiled at her before turning to face Kiku again. The smile remained, but his eyes lost some of their warmth. They sat in silence, other conversation drifting over to their tense corner. Kiku's stomach was in knots at this point, watching Alfred watching a little toddler jumping up and down in his stroller. He picked at the chipping table and bit his lip.

_What to say? _

He finally took a deep breath, mustered up his courage, and opened his mouth to end this torturing silence that grated on his nerves.

"I-" he began, looking up.

"So-" Alfred said at the same time facing him fully for the first time.

"Oh, I'm sorry-" he stammered, cheeks blushing a light pink.

"Nah, its okay," Alfred gave a short chuckle, casting his eyes down. "No need to apologize."

"Ah, yes well. . ." Kiku looked out the window, trying to find his bearings.

_I do. _

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**_Dedicated to Rjanarielle, who really helped me. Sorry it took so long, and I had to tweak here and there. . . But the first chapters up now_**

**_Hope you enjoy all the angst I have planned - LotusRoseBlossom_**

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**_Continue?_**


	2. Chapter 2

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{PlayList: Selected: Back to December- Taylor Swift 4:50}

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**_You've been good, busier than ever. . . We small talk, work and the weather. . . Your guard is up, and I know why. . ._**

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Kiku placed his hands in his lap as the Red-head came bounding over, carrying a pot of coffee and a tray with a cup of milk and cream and little packets of sugar.

"Here you are, Sugar Cakes," she said, placing it all on their little table. "We got milk or cream, whichever pleases ya', and sugar. That fine, Hun?"

"That's good, Baby, thanks." Alfred winks at her again, calling out as she walks away. "Give me a holler if that boy of yours leaves ya'!"

"Not happening," she calls back, not turning around. Alfred chuckles, shaking his head, before turning to fix himself a cup of coffee. Again the jukebox changed tunes and 'No other love (Have I)' came on, its soothing piano coaxing the couples in the diner to get up and dance. It also made Kiku incredibly uncomfortable.

Kiku reached over to take a sip of his tea. The people around them went on dancing unaware of the two people in the corner booth, trying strongly to forget but not able to.

"Ho-how have you been Alfred-san?" he asked softly, hating the catch in his voice. He couldn't meet those intense eyes, so he watched his hands as he stirred in exactly to spoonfuls of cream and reached over to get three packets of sugar- no more, no less – and stir it all into his blue mug instead, not seeing the brief flash in his eyes. The stirring stopped.

Alfred sighed, putting the spoon to the side and bringing the cup up to his lips.

"Fine."

Kiku flinched at his abrupt reply, his heart aching for those peaceful days, in the beginning. It had been awkward at first, yes, but once he'd hesitantly let him in . . . those days had been the best in is long, long life. And he'd ruined it all, hadn't he? He put those thoughts aside for now, ignoring the lump they brought to his throat.

_Change the subject, Kiku, come on_

"How are things at work? It's been cold lately, hasn't it?" he said looking up, trying to smile but failing.

"Yeah," was all he got. Alfred looked into his cup before setting it down, with maybe a little too much force, and resumed looking out the window, crossing his arms over his chest.

Kiku took the time to study his face. He looked different, older he supposed, unlike his old cheerful self. His old self would have smiled and joked at the cheap coffee and the eccentric names on the menu. Or would have begged and pleaded for him to dance to the song, like all the other people who laughed and clapped as a little boy pulled his shy little sister into a dance, or the brash teenager that pulled the annoyed blond onto the dance floor saying into her ear 'Come on snake, let's rattle!' with a winning smile. He'd say anything; _do_ anything, just to see him act like that again. To see his blue eyes light up again in pure joy. He'd missed his voice, his smile, his laughter, his teasing, his everything.

_So why did you hurt him?_ His conscious whispered to him. Kiku shook his head looking away from him. Too much, it was just too much.

"So, ah, ho-how has um . . ." he trailed off, unsure of what to say. He had never been good at small talk. It had always been him that had talked, about the smallest things, and he'd listened and smiled at his childish attitude. Now all he wanted was to see that child again.

After another minute of silence, he heard Alfred mutter something.

Kiku furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"What was that?"

Alfred scoffed, shaking his head. He turned to look Kiku in the eye, blue eyes on fire. "I said, Why the fuck are you doing this?"

Kiku felt his stomach clench painfully and his eyes widen. The happy sounds of the diner faded, so did the warmth. All he saw was that angry gaze directed at him. He was too shocked to reply. He just stared at him, his brown eyes wide. For a second he let his true feelings come through his gaze, vulnerable and scared, then he quickly composed himself, putting up that blank expression he always did, his shield. "I simply wanted to know how your doing, your pe-" he choked on the word, then went on. "That's a-"

"No, don't give me that bullshit." Alfred cut in angrily, fist coming down on the table harshly, rattling their cups and making Kiku jump. "You don't just call someone up you haven't seen in a _long _time out of the blue and ask them to see you." He looked into Kiku's eyes and he seemed to waver. He drew back his fist crossing his arms around his chest again. He shook his head in disgust.

"And stop asking about things you know you don't give a shit about, alright? It's getting on my nerves."

His outburst made Kiku draw back, as if he'd been slapped.

"Now quite stalling and get to the point, you're wasting my time. Unlike _you__,_ I actually have things to do." He looked at him expectedly, eyes cold and unforgiving. His expression reminded Kiku of the way Alfred's people had looked at Kiku's people as they were sent into-

Kiku took a shaky breath. He was so cold, so angry towards him. Kiku felt like crying, but didn't. He deserved this, he told himself. Every last insult, he deserved.

All this and more.

"Alright then." He whispered. "I won't try to bother you."

"Good."

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**_Continue?_**


	3. Chapter 3

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{PlayList: Selected: Back to December- Taylor Swift 4:50}

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**_Because the last time you saw me, is still burned in the back of your mind, you gave me roses, and I left them there to die . . ._**

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Kiku swallowed hard, feeling a lump in his throat and tears threatening to spill. He took a second to compose his expression, nodding mutely, staring into his cup of now lukewarm tea. He felt all his courage drain from him.

_Why did I do this? I'm simply hurting myself more. . ._

He cleared his throat before saying, "Alright."

His voice came out in a thick whisper. He gripped cup in front of him like a shield, putting it up to take a sip.

_Still stalling . . . _his mind whispered.

He grits his teeth, placing the cup to the side.

Alfred gave a curt nod glasses glinting dangerously.

He felt his stomach clench in fear, of being laughed at or worse.

"I- I," he knew what he wanted to say, knew what he had to do, it'd been years now since he'd done what he'd done to him.

He knew all this yes, but something inside him rebelled. He was not used to bowing down so easily and especially to someone so young. He tried to, he really had tried to forget, but it was humiliating to him, he'd made a mistake, he was aware, but the shame that it brought him was too great for him to bear. The other countries looked at him with either pity for what he'd received or anger for what he'd done.

Neither was what he wanted.

He just wanted to forget it. Forget all of it, the whole ordeal, had ever come to be. Or better yet, go back in time and fix everything, stop the events that had grown out of hand.

But to get past this, he had to acknowledge his wronging's, and ask for forgiveness. The mere thought left his heart racing and his hands shaking. He hadn't been there personally when his people had finally surrendered formally to them, he'd been left too weak by the-

He felt bile rise in his throat and his side throbbed in the memory of the agonizing pain that had followed _His _attack. He had been caught off guard. So had Alfred, he suspected. The magnitude of the bomb had left him reeling and powerless, he still felt it at times.

_Could he?_

Kiku took a shaky breath, dimly aware the song had changed once again. The crowd in the diner cheered at the song, the polka duet _Hoop-Dee-Do_ with Perry Como and the Fontane Sisters, ignorant of Kiku's pain and misery.

Too long, he was taking too long, that was what Alfred's expression read.

_Just get it over with, _he thought to himself, running his hands down his thighs. _Just do it and you'll never have to see him again. Two words, just say them. It will be just like ripping a Band-Aid off. Do it. _

But he couldn't. He couldn't force himself to get the words out.

He shook his head.

What did he plan to change by doing this? Why_was_ he the one having to do this? It was too painful. He couldn't do it.

No.

"I," he breathed out, making the mistake of looking up from his cold drink into Alfred's eyes.

They held no sympathy for him. All he saw was a sea of anger and resentment and something more.

Disgust.

He couldn't handle that stare.

He felt so small and insignificant under that gaze.

And scared.

Were they really the same he'd fallen in love with? Was it still really the same hue of baby blue that had enchanted and captivated him? Had they really once held only warmth and love? Made him feel safe and protected? What had changed?

"I can't. . ." his breathe hitched, and he felt sick to his stomach. He glanced away to break that annoyed stare.

The newlywed bride danced by with her beloved husband, laughing breathlessly. Her perfume wafted over to their table.

Kiku's eyes widened in realization, just as Alfred noticed it as well, eyes flashing.

That scent.

It was roses.

Kiku was blindsided by a memory. The memory of a hazy day in July, when he'd had an unexpected visit from Alfred. He'd come to talk, more like beg, him to come out of his deep isolation. He'd refused, of course, denying his people access to his beautiful island. He thought he'd leave, but he came back the next day and the next. He'd be there at every turn. He couldn't get rid of him. He was annoyed, politely asking him to leave him alone. Alfred had told him something that had left him stunned.

'_Why?'_ he'd asked, confused._ 'No one wants to be alone, not even you.'_

The answer had been so insightful and accurate.

He was right.

Kiku was so tired of being alone, he just wanted to be happy, and the other nations seemed nice enough, but he was scared he'd get hurt by them if he let them in.

So, he'd refused entrance to any nation aside from Netherland for years. He had told him to keep the rest of the countries at bay and so far it had worked.

Except for a certain young blonde nation, hard-bent to become the hero of the world.

Then one day, while he was taking a walk through his garden of chrysanthemums, he'd found him sitting under his cherry blossom tree.

He'd been hesitant to come forth. Until he heard him murmur to himself.

'_They're so pretty. And small. . .'_.

That was all he said, but Kiku had smiled for the first time since meeting him.

'_Yes, when they're in full bloom, it is a pretty site to behold,'_ he had told him, walking over to stand by the bench he sat on.

His blue eyes lit up, in surprise and childish joy. Surprise because he hadn't known he knew English and joy because he was talking directly to him for the first time, without having a translator in the way.

'_Is that why it's your nations flower?'_

'_Yes, it shows beauty is a fleeting and delicate thing, and one must make the best of it.'_

'_Huh, I never knew that . . . Oh, here.'_

He'd gotten a bouquet out from beside him.

'_For you. Sorry I've been such a pain, heh. But I'm leaving soon. Right now actually, so I'm glad I caught you before we boarded.'_

Kiku had been surprised at the disappointment he'd felt at his words. He'd taken the roses, they had been absolutely beautiful, and brought them up to his nose to smell them.

'_Well, bye, Japan. Take care!'_

He'd panicked, thinking of his smile and that endearing way he bounced on his feet when he was excited and-

'_Wait, America-san!'_ he'd called out to his back. He had turned in surprise.

'_I-I'm sure we can work a deal out, yes?'_ he had asked, clutching the roses close.

The smile that had lit up his face had made his heart swell.

'_Yeah!'_

Those blue, blue eyes had twinkled with life and hope, and now. . .

"What?" he demanded gruffly, frowning at him. The couple sashayed away, bobbing out to the song.

Kiku blinked in surprise.

He hadn't noticed he'd begun to stare at him. He blushed, embarrassed.

_Could he make this any worse?_

"I'm so-" he began.

"Quite saying that already and get to the point. God, you're so fucking annoying, I swear!" he cut in, a little too loudly. Especially since the song had ended, and, in the lull before the other song began, some patrons had over heard the outburst and were now turning to glancing at them.

Kiku flinched at his tone, leaning back in his seat.

"I'm- I -" he stuttered, feeling closed in, by his heated stare and the whispers of the waitresses, looking at them in concern. One broke from the group and took a step forward, as if to come over and ask them what was wrong.

More humiliation, more shame.

Too much.

He couldn't.

He began to hyperventilate. Alfred narrowed his blue eyes.

He shut his eyes against it all.

"I'm sorry, I-I can't . . ." he let out a small choked sound. He opens his eyes and looked at the table blearily, his eyes full of tears.

He stood to bolt from the table. He heard the murmur of people as he walked quickly to the front door, past cheerful people.

His hand came up to block a sob from escaping.

This was a mistake. He shouldn't have-

He was only a few feet away from the bright pink door, surrounded by the many dancers, when he heard a chilling sound.

Alfred's mocking laughter coming from the back of the store, directed at his retreating back.

"Hah, you coward. . ."

Kiku froze where he was, heart racing.

_He wouldn't. Not in front of all these people. . ._

Without turning back, he heard Alfred stand, thank the taken aback waitress, making his way to the front.

To him.

"Oh, you heard me, alright," he said darkly. It was quiet except for the crooning of Vera Lynn. The customers stood in silence as they watched on, a little alarmed but mostly curious.

Kiku didn't move as he heard Alfred come closer. Before reaching the door, he bent his head to whisper in his ear.

"Even after all that you've done, all that you've caused, you can't even apologize to my face? Shouldn't _I _be the one walking away?" he said coldly, as if he'd known all along and had enjoyed his misery.

Kiku was wide eyed.

"See now _that_," he sneered, making him shiver at the pure loathing in his voice, "that makes you a coward to me."

He gave him a shove with his arm as he sauntered past him opening the door with a cheery jingle.

"Adios, Honda," he called, pushing out into the cold day.

The door closed with another jungle. The diner was left in a stifling silence that suffocated him.

Kiku didn't have to turn to see all the patrons looking at him.

He didn't care. He couldn't care make himself care. Right now all that mattered was that the one person he'd ever loved in the world had just hurt him, intentionally, and left him without a backward glance.

He was shaken and cold.

"All I wanted to say was, I'm sorry. . ." he whispered as the tears finally fell, flowing down his cheeks.

He was unable to stop the sob this time.

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_**Continue?**_


	4. Chapter 4

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{PlayList: Selected: Back to December- Taylor Swift 4:50}

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_**So this is me swallowing my pride, standing in front of you, saying I'm sorry **__**for that night And I go back to December all the time . . .**_

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\- **Kyoto****, Kyoto Prefecture, Japan **

_December 17, 1956_

Kiku shuddered awake with a choked whimper. His eyes stayed closed, his body slowly drawing itself out of the vivid dream.

It was the same dream, nightmare really, that he had every other night. It started the same and ended the same. Letting him remember in vibrant detail what had transpired 2 years ago.

Tormented brown eyes opened slowly.

The room was dark, the only light coming from the slit in the sliding panel doors. The soft moonlight reflected on his tear stained cheek, still pink hued from the imagined humiliation.

Sleep was out of the question.

With a world weary sigh Kiku sat up, moving the quilts off his sweat soaked skin. The cool night breeze chilled him. He sniveled and the small figure of his pet got up from the corner of the room and up onto the edge of his bed where he began stroking his fur absentmindedly. Pochi looked worriedly up at him as Kiku's eyes slid to the calendar hanging on his wall.

Well no wonder the nightmare had come back. Tomorrow was a World Meeting, which meant he'd have to face Alfred. He bit his lip, his stomach clenching faithfully at the mention of the nation.

_How should I act? Will he bring up what happened?_

Pochi tilted his head, giving a concerned whine. Kiku looked at Pochi and smiled shakily.  
"It's alright, Pochi-kun," he hushed the animal. "I'm sorry, it's just. . ."

He glanced out at the falling snow, a deep sadness welling up from a deep reservoir in his chest.  
"I think he really is angry," he whispered through a lump in his throat, his voice coming out unsteady and high. He tried to swallow around the mass in his throat, but the pain couldn't be relieved that easily. A noisy sob crawled out of his throat, his low moan sounding like a wounded animal. Pochi, so startle by the noise, let out a yelp.

"And I don't know how to tell him I'm sorry," he cried frustration in his voice, tears pooling in the corner of his eyes.  
"I don't know what to do," he wept, curling into a tight ball on his bed. "_I just love him so much!_"  
He fell asleep crying that night, like all the others before, while Pochi watched over him all night.

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Unbeknownst to Kiku, miles away Alfred was having an internal debate of his own. One that threatened to boil over and burn. He was sitting in front of a wooden desk in an empty room somewhere in upstate New York. The curtains were drawn, he had a monster headache, and he was clenching and unclenching a medicine ball sporadically in his hand. Waiting for late breakfast to arrive, his thoughts had wandered into relatively dangerous territory. With the next meeting around the corner, his dreams had been turning darker and darker. When he had awoken that morning he had had to physically restrain himself from calling out _his_ name.

And just like every other time, in his dream he had gone with the blinding instinct that had filled him back then, to turn around and walk right back into that stupid little diner and fall to his knees in front of his angel, his dove, his Ki-

_"Japan."_

"What?"

His eyes snapped open.

Of course.

Right when he whispered his name, the bumbling assistant decided to grace him with his presence and his food.

He turned his chair cheerily and laughed.

"Nothing, just something the prez' mentioned to me at this mornings briefing." His charm was 100 watts bright. If possible, he would have gotten up thrown out the stupid asshole by the scruff of his turtleneck.

The sleazy jerk sneered and placed the paper bag with the familiar logo on his desk and muttered a dark, "Whatever. Here you go." _Fatass_.

Of course he didn't say this. But it was implied, he knew. Even though Alfred was the youngest in the building and he had no clear title here, he was wildly respected. This made the underpaid assistant of forty years angry and bitter.

Never mind Alfred was older than this man's grandfather.

_Tough luck, ass._

Instead all that came out was a cheery, "Thanks John, appreciate it."

John glared at him mouthing a tense, "_You're welcome, sir_" and stormed out of the office, almost slamming the door on his way out but restraining himself.

But just barely.

When the door mercifully shut, Alfred let his goofy smile drop and a dark expression took over his handsome face.

God, sometimes he really hated being a country.

He snorted darkly and brought the bag closer to him. He rooted around for a second before withdrawing a Big Mac and a coke.

Ah, the height of American cuisine.

Just as he was about to take a big bite out of his hamburger something caught his eye. His eyes fell on something reflective peeking out from the corner of his desk drawer.

He frowned putting his hamburger down.

The fuck?

He opened it and pulled out a small metal. His breath caught in his throat, food forgotten.

The cross was gold and in its center was the engraving of a grand ship sailing the seas. The cloth holding it was triangle in shape, upside down, and blue and white.

A navy cross, highest honor.

He pulled out another.

This one was brass and circular. It had an eagle in the middle surrounded by barbed wire.

His teeth clenched, his headache intensifying.

Yet another wonderful side affect of being a powerful country. His people were connected to him and he to them. Ever since the war had finished he had been forced to hide the fact that he was literally being ripped in half. It hurt so much. His thoughts and dreams echoed those of his soldiers.

It was an endless barge of noise and chaos. Of fear and bravery and despair.

But none like that of his POWs.

His eyes narrowed as the familiar darkness overwhelmed him, and down there in that dark void, the voices of his fallen men cried out.

In pain.

In anger.

In justice.

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_**It's been a while. Miss me?**_

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_**Continue?**_


	5. Chapter 5

+Playing+

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{PlayList: Selected: Back to December- Taylor Swift 4:50}

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_**It turns out freedom ain't nothing but missing you, wishing I'd realized what I had when you were mine . . .**_

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**\- Kyoto**, Kyoto Prefecture, Japan ****

_December 18, 1956 _

13:50

There was an incessant knocking at the door. Kiku stood in front of a grand mirror in his room trying to ignore it as he fixed his tie for the fifth time.

His fingers shook from lack of sleep and hunger. He was constantly hungry but couldn't keep anything down for long. The mirror reflected a grotesque parody of him. His eyes puffy and red rimmed from crying, his face pallid. His hair, despite a harrowing battle with the brush, appeared limp and lifeless, like its owner.

Frustration crept into his carefully crafted expression as that annoyingly nasal voice cut through his depressing thoughts.

"Nihon-sama, please, open the door!"

The knocking got louder. Pochi-kun, usually a docile animal, was barking furiously at the door, protecting his owner. Kiku smiled reluctantly.

"Nihon-sama? Nihon-sama, please! The meeting starts anytime! Please, hurry!"

It was really starting to aggravate him.

He brushed the front of his suit. He had to be impeccable. He mustn't let them know how affected he was. It would only provoke them. But he also had to come across as put together, nonthreatening.

He could do this.

He _would_ do this.

"Nihon-sama?" the voice changed, barely veiled anger filled the spaces in between the words. "Kiku, stop this nonsense."

Hurt burst across brown like a flash of lightning. The next words that were spoken he missed. A howling sensation filled his ears, the war and all the noise and cinematic horror came at him at full force. His senses were put on overdrive. He began to hyperventilate. The stricken look that reflected in the mirror, as if he'd been slapped, cut through the agony before it consumed him and he crumpled into a million pieces.

The door wrenched open without warning. The man on the other side lurched back, hand still posed in the air, mid-knock. Eyebrows smoothed out and tight mouth widened into an 'O' of surprise.

"Oh, Nihon-sama-"

"_Who are you? Imperious fool, who are you_?" Kiku asserted in his native tongue, voice hoarse, as if he'd been swallowing shards of glass. It hurt that much too.

"_Ah, I'm your new guard, Oshin Yama. Sir, I_-"

"_How long have you been assigned_?"

His hands where white on the door. A beat started to thrum at his left temple.

"_Since this morning. Sir_-"

"_And i__t will be your last_." Kiku wouldn't let him finish. He was done.

Dark eyes widened comically. Kiku felt a spurt of mirth in his chest. He fought a smirk.

"_Sir_?"

"_You're fired_." Kiku restated slowly enjoying the look of disbelief that shone clear in the subordinates' eyes. "Leave the palace immediately."

"_What? You can't do that!_" anger sparked to life. Hands clenched.

Kiku flicked his eyes down to the fists and back up to his face. How _dare_ him.

"_Do you know who I am_?" the nasal voice went on.

"_Do you know who **I** am_?" he countered, voice cold, eyes flat.

The dark eyes widened minimally then narrowed further. Jaw clenched.

With a swift turn, the man strode down the delicately candle light hall. The red tapestries picked up his shadow as he passed, then let it go rhythmically. Soft rays of dawn penetrated his window shades and spilled out of the open door, lighting up the hallway a golden peach.

His shadow was small.

He released a shaky breath, his knees giving out. He fell in the threshold, hand going up to block a moan of pain. He wanted to claw at his clothes and keen like a wounded animal.

That name. His name. The name he was given by him as an endearment.

The memory floated up, unwanted. He shut his eyes, the world swirling around him.

_"America-san! Please, what will the maids think?"_

_They were running through the halls, he in his best yukata, the one with the sakura embroidery at the hems. Alfred, of course wore only gray dress slacks and a loose white button up, the sleeves rolled up and the first three buttons unbuttoned. He'd long ago taken off his tie, proclaiming it ridiculous and far too stuffy, something only 'a loser like Iggy would wear'. _

_"America-san!" his voice was breathless, partly because of all the running and partly because this was the most reckless thing he'd ever done. He felt exhilarated. _

_They turned the corner of the low building and they ran into a corner, tucked in the shade. It was a blessing from the dreadfully hot sun. Alfred shielded him with his body. He was so close to him that Kiku's breath caught in his throat, causing him to black out for a bit. Those eyes. So blue. They couldn't be real, could they? _

_"America-san?" _

_"What have I told you, Kiku?" His voice was low in his ear. Immediately all thought ceased. _

_"Kiku?"_

_Yes? What had he asked? _

_His eyes were unfocused, he knew. He blushed. "Yes?"_

_He felt him stroke his cheek. His smile was genuine, not mocking, like Kiku's tutors and teachers. His eyes fluttered close. _

_"The name is Alfred."_

He came to. He blinked, the soft carpet an inch away from his face. He frowned vaguely. Why was he lying on the floor?

He stood up slowly, his head swimming, spots dancing in his vision.

He coughed deeply, leaning on the door frame for strength. He heard a commotion from his window inside the room. It sounded like it was coming from the front of the palace. He walked unsteadily down the hall.

Might as well get it over with.

* * *

_**Brief interlude. The agonies we face everyday. Next we peek into a World Meeting. Can it get any worse?**_

* * *

_**Continue?**_


	6. Chapter 6

+Playing+

* * *

{PlayList: Selected: Back to December- Taylor Swift 4:50}

* * *

_**I'd go back to December, turn around and make it alright . . .**_

* * *

Undisclosed Location 

-**World Meeting**

_December 18, 1956_

It seemed a miracle he made it there at all. His new guard kept silent through the whole ride to the meeting place. Wise.

He was at his breaking point. On the way, he'd bitten his nails down to the quick, a habit he thought he'd broken.

"_We're here, Nihon-sama._"

The blue car pulled up to a nondescript building. The address was unknown. While the leaders of the countries met one place, the Hosts, countries, met at another. That way no one ever found out about there existence.

He reached for the door handle shakily. He stepped out slowly, stretching out the moment to its limit. He pulled out his briefcase, making sure it had all its contents: a pad of paper, pencils.

Finally, he had no choice put to close the door. He cleared his throat then faced the driver for the first time. He was an aging man, his hands wrinkled, his hair white.

He could have been any other man except . . .

Kiku swallowed a gasp.

The man's right hand was missing fingers. Now that he saw him closely, there were scars at the nape of the man's neck.

No, it couldn't be. . . He wouldn't be that cruel. . .

"_Nihon-sama?_"

The soft raspy voice drew his eyes away from the scars and into old brown eyes. Eyes that knew death and despair. He saw himself reflected in those eyes.

"_Y-Yes?_" His throat was dry.

"_It is okay. The war does things to men that under any other circumstances they would not even consider. The people of Japan hold no resentment. Please, do your best with the other Hosts and I will be back to pick you up at 6 promptly, yes?"_

Kiku nodded slowly, as if in a dream. "_Yes._"

He shut the door and stepped back from the curb. The car rumbled away, leaving him feeling at a loss.

What was he doing here? What would he gain?

_For his people. He was here for his people._

The thought washed over him like a soothing ointment. Yes, his people. They needed him.

He had a purpose, he was okay. He let out a deep sigh.

He turned to the front of the building. It was big, square in shape. it was designed with a Greek feel. It had high reaching columns that flanked the set of double doors. The steps leading up to them were many.

Another car pulled up to the front. Kiku panicked. No.

Then he heard a familiar cheerful voice, though the last time he'd heard it, it had sounded broken and pleading. His had been harsh in retribution.

His stomach lurched.

The black Aurelia B20 Coupe opened its doors. The passenger and driver side.

Kiku wanted to run, hide, scream do _something_ but he seemed rooted to the spot.

"Kiku, Kiku caro!" the happy sunny Italian gave him a dazzling smile. He skipped to him and spread his arms wide. "Un bacione!"

His arms encircled his wilted body. He felt confusion and a stomach jerking happiness.

"F-Feli-Kun?" his voice sounded shaky even to himself. His eyes drifted over Feliciano's shoulder and he made out the shape of his companion. Slick blond hair, a distressed expression on his face. His eyes blurred with unshed tears, the familiar lump in his throat swelled. "Ludwig-san?"

The blond gave an embarrassed cough. "Feliciano, I think you should let Kiku breathe."

Feliciano pulled back hastily. "Scusi, I was just so excited to see you. I was just telling Luddy how we had so much to catch up on, right amore? Right?" He latched on to Ludwigs arm.

Ludwigs blush intensified. "Feliciano, I've told you an innumerable amount of times, it is highly inappropriate to call each other-"

"It isn't, not if I mean it!" he pouted

"Now see-"

They started what seemed was an old argument. Feliciano used loud expressive cries and Ludwig's voice was reasonable and low. They were like to sides of a coin.

"Wait, Ludwig-san, Feliciano-kun," Kiku interrupted. He couldn't let this happen.

They turned to him, eyes speculative but passive; there was no hate, no anger. Kiku briefly lost his voice.

"What is it, Kiku caro?" Feliciano's tone was quizzical. No harm.

He eyed them warily, ready for the betrayal, the rage. "You aren't . . . you aren't mad at what I-" he breathed in sharply.

"You aren't mad?"

They were the ones confused now.

"Angry? Why ever-"

"Eh? Kiku caro, what do you mean angry?"

"Because I did, I was the one who, I didn't listen and now I-" his voice was high, close to hysterics.

They rushed at him. They enveloped him in hugs. He trembled in their arms. The months of silence, the waiting, the regret. It evaporated along with the cold. The sun bathed the trio for a while.

When they pulled away at last they were all laughing. The crisis was avoided. He still had his friends, his allies.

"Are you guys serious? You never answered my letters and I thought-"

"Oh Kiku caro! Ti voglio un mondo di bene!" Feliciano kissed his cheeks, his big caramel eyes watery.

"Ja, Kiku, we would never think such a thing. You are our friend."

Kiku smiled brilliantly for the first time in what felt like years.

"And you mine."

=/=

They walked in with heads high. The silence that followed their entrance to the meeting room was deafening. The table was circular. They went around to the left side and sat together, Kiku on Feliciano's left, Ludwig at his right. The conversation around them resumed after a while, but quieter this time. They all knew it was about them.

Kiku finally understood the expression 'Elephant in the room'. From his spot in the conference room he could see all the other Hosts. They tried to not make it obvious but it was.

Their stares. Sidelong, peripheral or point blank.

But as Kiku would assume, it was as hectic as usual.

"Ve~ Geeeeeermany! I'm hungry!" Feliciano whispered beside him. Kiku bit back a smile. He heard Ludwig's sigh. The doors opened again and Kiku happened to look up, to see who it was.

"What'd you say, you limey bastard?"

"Italy, we can eat later. Right now-" Ludwig's chiding faded away into the background as _they_ walked in.

Fear, icy and cold, slipped down his back like ice. Kiku went rigid in his seat.

_Well of course they would come_, he chided himself. _They are the allies. They created this organization. To bring peace._ _And put an end to haywire countries. Like myself._

"You heard me, you, you-," he seemed to search for the right word. "Imbécile anglais!"

He kept his head down, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. He pretended to be writing something important down, but out of the corner of his eyes he watched them enter.

Arthur, known as the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.

Francis, known as the Republique of Francaise.

Ivan, known as the Russian Federation.

Wang, known as the Republic of China.

One, two, three. . .

He counted once then twice to be sure. There were only four. Where was-?

He faltered as he heard the double doors burst open again. A booming voice calls out:

_**"THE HERO IS HERE!"**_

Time stops. He didn't know it would hurt so much. He drops his eyes, but his image is seared into his memory.

The five pairs of footsteps come towards his side of the table.

Don't look up, don't look up.

Do. Not. Look. Up.

He peeked.

And sensed he would never be the same.

"Oh, for the love of God, Alfred, shut up!"

"Hah, I'll ignore that comment, just because I love you,"

Kiku felt he'd been punched in the stomach, as Alfred gave _that_ smile.

The smile he always _used _to give him.

Just then Alfred glanced over at him and smirked as he saw the look of anguish on his face.

Kiku, gasping, looked away first, quickly, but he could still feel that cold smug gaze on him. He closed his eyes, putting a hand to his mouth to keep the noises in.

". . . so then, I was all like, 'Heck no! I'm not letting these losers win' right? So I totally beat there sorry asses! It was so cool! I was like 'Bam' and 'Bam, Bam, Bam' and then I was like 'whoosh!' and they all ran `because I'm just that good, ya know? They didn't stand a chance. Especially that real puny one. Whas' his name?"

Kiku's eyes flew open at Alfred's recount of the tale of how he 'single-handedly' beat the Axis, loudly.

Very loudly.

In fact, unnecessarily loud, since the people he was talking to were just a few inches away.

People who were now looking over uncomfortably at Italy, who'd finally gone silent and was looking down at his lap, Germany, who had a barely restrained look of anger on his face, and Kiku, whose gaze was fixed on Alfred in disbelief and shame.

He meet Arthurs gaze and saw an expression of pity that he knew was meant to convey 'I'm so sorry' cross his face. But really it only made him more miserable.

He looked away.

The others had the same look on their faces.

That was it. That was thing he couldn't handle. The pity, the stares, the way they walked around them on egg shells, as if they would pull out a gun any second and say 'Alright, I declare war!'

He snapped.

Months, years of shame and groveling climaxed inside him.

He was done.

"Enough."

Ludwig and Feliciano looked over at him in surprise at his quiet whisper.

"What?"

"That is enough," he repeated, looking up at Ludwig and Feliciano, his comrades.

His friends.

He went on, a cold fury in his eyes. "I have surrendered, I have apologized. All I ask is that same forgiveness back. Is that so much to ask?"

They stared at him in silence, taken aback by his mini outburst. They weren't used to him speaking his thoughts aloud.

Then Ludwig nodded slowly. "I agree."

"Ve? Me too!" Feli hastened to agree, not wanting to be left out.

Kiku nodded, satisfied.

"I will not sit here and continue to be insulted. I'm leaving."

Ludwig smiled, well his version, of a smile. "You still have it in you, Japan."

"Yeah, you're still the same Kiku! ~" Feli laughed, recovering quickly from the insults.

He smiled fondly back at them.

"Arigato," he said softly.

"Lead the way, Japan," Ludwig said, giving the other side of the room a glare. "I'm leaving as well."

He pushed his chair back, Ludwig and Feli doing the same. The room hushed as they strode to the door.

Kiku's knees were shaking and he hoped against hope nobody noticed. Especially a certain tall, blonde, nation.

* * *

_**And where is the 'Hero' in all of this?**_

* * *

_**Continue?**_


	7. Chapter 7

+Playing+

* * *

{PlayList: Selected: Back to December- Taylor Swift 4:50}

* * *

_**I go back to December all the time . . . **_

* * *

.::.

It took a while for Alfred to realize nobody was paying attention to him anymore. He faltered in his story, trailing off slowly. His audience was distracted by something else. He pouted, eyebrows pinched together in mild irritation.

"Hey, guys!" he whined, turning to see what was more interesting than his story. "What's the big de-" He abruptly shut up. His eyes narrowed.

Of course.

He saw Kiku's retreating back, followed closely by his little 'Entourage of Evil' as he'd so generously dubbed them. He felt that now familiar pitch in his stomach he always got when he saw Kiku. It was almost painful to think about him. Alfred was mostly angry, yes. But at himself, something he'd never admit, to anybody. Whenever he saw Kiku, heard Kiku, whenever he so much as _thought_ about Kiku, he remembered all the good times he'd had with him. All the stolen moments, all the laughs he'd coaxed out of him. How much he'd loved him.

And then he remembered how Kiku had lied to him. About everything. How every time they were together he was faking it. And he, well, lost it and did things he regretted.

Like now.

"Hah, leaving so soon, _Japan_," he sneered. He saw Kiku falter to a stop, saw Germany shoot him a glare so murderous he knew if the saying 'looks can kill' were true, he'd be dead. Felt the room freeze, felt the atmosphere shift. The whole world was watching them, would be witnesses to Alfred's cruelty.

_Again._

He pushed the thought out of his mind.

"But the story was just getting interesting!" His voice came out sounding mocking and low, unlike his usual cheerful voice. He saw Kiku stiffen, stance rigid. And he grinned. He had him; he wouldn't be able to leave now. Not with the whole room looking at them.

His pride was too great. Like Alfred, they both shared that same flaw. They never backed down from a challenge.

"Right, now, where was I?" Alfred said in pretend thought.

"Alfred," Arthur said from across the table, emerald eyes glancing at Kiku along with the rest of the countries in the room. This annoyed Alfred. Why were they siding with _him_? Had they forgotten what Kiku was responsible for?

"Don't." Arthur's voice held a warning. Just like when he was a kid and he wanted to go play in the funky looking bush and Arthur called him back, he knew Arthur was right.

But he didn't listen. Of course he didn't. He returned Arthur's glare with one of his own, and opened his mouth.

"Oh, yeah! So this real prissy, lying, manipulative tiny itty-bitty nation- if you could even call it _that_, am I right?" he laughed, a bit to loudly. He nudged the person right next to him, who just so happened to be Matthew. The violet eyed country gave him a forlorn look, which hit him harder than Arthur's glare.

He looked away and hurried on before he lost his wits. "So, anyway, this wimpy freak comes out of hiding and actually tries to beat me! Hah, isn't that funny? I mean, this complete _loser_ of a nation, who nobody gives a _shit_ about, actually tries to take me down! Hah!"

The room watched him, entranced. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Greece had gotten up and was making his way over to the trio in front of the door, trying to console a slumped Kiku.

A dark haze of red filled his vision.

"But wait, it gets better!"

He knew he sounded crazy. He sometimes wondered if he _was_ crazy. But all he saw right now was that damn Greece reaching Kiku, _his_ Kiku, and putting his douchy arm on his small shoulder, leaning down to say something in his ear.

"Hey, Japan!" he called out, not knowing when he'd agreed with himself to say what he was about to say next.

He felt a dark pleasure when Kiku flinched at Alfred openly acknowledging him for once.

"You know what I'm talking about, right? I mean you told me so yourself. That night, remember?"

He saw more than heard Kiku's tiny gasp. He whipped around; his eyes rimmed red and wide with horror. "No, you wouldn't . . ."

He smirked at him from across the long oval table.

"Oh, I wouldn't? Ya sure 'bout that?" his voice was edged with a reckless danger. Alfred knew Kiku believed him. His face went pallid and he started to tremble. Everything else faded away. He didn't acknowledge Arthur's low tight-lipped warning, the whispers of the others. All he saw was Kiku's brown doe eyes close to tears. His mind cleared for a second and he felt like a dick but he couldn't stop now.

He had an audience to please.

He turned to the waiting nations. "You guys will be surprised to hear-"

"Why?"**  
**

Kiku's voice. Soft, nearly inaudible, quivering and broken almost made Alfred stop. A sidelong view at Kiku proved to almost be Alfred's undoing. Eyes pleading and round, lower lip caught in his teeth, Kiku looked for the whole world to see, a damsel in distress.

But he knew it was a trick. Kiku did that, lead Alfred to believe he was defenseless and needed to be protected. The way brown had looked adoringly up at blue, making Alfred feel like he was Kiku's everything, his only. The way he had touched Alfred shyly, almost reverently, had made Alfred feel invincible. Alfred had finally been someones hero. How many times had Kiku done that? To how many guys?

With that thought in his mind, he ignored his gut feeling and kept going.

"You know damn right why," he said darkly. Then he smiled cheerfully, the abrupt change almost as scary as Russia's. "So did y'all know that I was Kiku's fir-"

"STOP!"

Everyone jumped at the voice. They looked at Kiku in awe and surprise, taken aback by his sudden surge of emotion. No one had noticed exactly when it had started, his tears. They were all still, staring at the light coming in from the window illuminated him in a spotlight. He was in the world's center stage again.

No one had ever seen more than a small smile. This was a torrent of emotion and they had missed the gradual build up. First one solitary tear, followed by another, because tears rarely leave alone, until soon, a steady stream of salty tears flowed it's way down his pale cheek. He blinked against them, his thick lashes stuck together in clumps. His small delicate face trembled, expression crumpling. No one moved, no one dared breathe.

Though never spoken of, everyone would ask themselves later, in the solitude of their homes, is it better to rack your body with noisy sobs and let the world know of your pain, or to slowly release your emotion within yourself with silent tears?

He stood trembling like a cherry blossom in the wind, eyes finally brimmed over, rivulets of tears running down his shame stained cheeks. The former recluse took in a stuttering breath. This single action broke the spell. His eyes flickered, becoming aware of noise and movement again. He swallowed another fluttering breath.

"Stop. . ." his voice cracked, rising an octave. He brought a fist to his mouth, eyes darting around the room.

He seemed to realize for the first time where he was. He looked frantic. "I. . ." he started.

He looked down at the green carpet, trying to regroup from his raw display of emotion. He gave an 'Nngh' of obvious pain, shaking his head, letting his hair come down to hide his eyes. He turned around suddenly, wrenching the door open with a loud bang and ran out of the conference room.

"Kiku caro!" Italy called out. He was crying as well, though more expressively. He bounded after him. Germany gave Alfred a steely look, before leaving too. Greece took a step towards the door, paused and turned to Alfred.

Alfred quickly adopted a cocky expression. He felt a jagged wound in his chest. The expression of pain on Kiku's face. . . That couldn't be fabricated.

Could it?

"Yes?" he finally asked, when the silence between them had grown too thick.

". . ."

The green eyed nation simply stared at him, making him seriously uncomfortably. Alfred's mask faltered.

Finally Greece gradually shook his head then said slowly "Nothing . . ." and left.

The whole room was left in a horrible quiet that always seems to follow a horrible, unexplainable event. Then all eyes turned, simultaneously it seemed, to stare at Alfred.

In the face of all those different colored eyes, Alfred did the only thing he could think of.

He coughed before jokingly saying "Awwwwwkward."

The silence seemed to multiple around him.

Arthur sighed. "Alright, well we should probably start this godforsaken meeting before anything else happens." This last statement was directed at Alfred.

His cheeks burned. Feeling like a scolded child, Alfred slumped further in his seat. He spent the rest of the meeting in a gloom, playing back what had happened over and over in his mind.

Had he really done that?

Yes, he answered himself. And the whole world will now know how affected you are.

Great.

What else could go wrong?

* * *

_**What indeed?**_

* * *

**_Continue?_**

* * *

A/N: The chanting finally got to me ^ ^;


	8. A Notice

First of all, my sincerest apologies to anyone who has waited around for my lazy arse to upload.  
I've taken a bit of an unannounced hiatus, haven't I? Due to unforeseeable and personal issues that came about, I have had to step away from my writing for a while. And for that, I deeply apologise.  
That being said, I'd like to get back into the swing of writing, to put it shortly. I know I enjoyed writing as a pastime before and I refuse to have that carefree joy be taken away from me. So I'm taking a mini stand and I'm going to start writing again.  
I digress, however.  
This is meant to serve as a sort of greeting? A, 'Welcome back', if you will. I don't know how often I will update or how long apart the space between updates will be, just a warning. Therefore, in order to go forth in my writing process, I have to ask you, my dear and very humble reader, a very important question. I'm, at present, debating whether it is better to scrub* all my current works clean and start them from scratch, with revisions and character improvements and whatnot, or continue as they are. It would seem reasonably to pick up where I left off, but as you might now, it's been almost a year since my last update.  
(Eleven days short, actually! FLITS was updated on the 23 of April. Wild.)  
That is a long time between updates. I've honestly lost the feel I had for the characters. My mind-set now is a lot different than it was at the time I was writing that particular fic. If I do start over then the process of rewriting and tweaking will take a while, and the story might change from what it was before. The tone and feel.  
Even the endings I had in mind.  
I realized I couldn't take this important decision without input from the most important people; the ones reading these stories.  
That is my current dilemma and I'm asking for your opinion: Scrub and start new, or go on as it is?  
Thank you so much for reading through all this and sorry for any mini heart attacks I may cause by posting this ^ ^;;  
Sorry, not an update.  
Yet at least :)  
I eagerly await to hear back from you all, new and old fans alike!

*The scrub would also mean leaving my account on here and moving permanently to ao3. 


End file.
